Bellatrix The Last And The Best
by XyeahyeahsowhatX
Summary: The life of Bellatrix Black/Lestrange. This is going to be long. Starting with her very first ride on the Hogwarts Express, will cover all school years, marriage, the first wizarding war, Askaban, second war, death, everything. I've done my research on Pottermore.
1. Of Trains and Toads

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter One**

**Of Trains and Toads**

**A/N ~ I like writing in bold. It's makes my words feel bold. That is kind of the point. I'm rambling, aren't I? SORRY ****. Well, I've got about a million fics I'm writing at the moment for Merlin, but this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction! And it's going to be freaking **_**long**_**. I was about to say 'squee' when I realised how much I HATE people who say that. Well, anyway, this is going to be the life of Bellatrix Black/Lestrange, starting with her first trip to Platform 9 ¾ through everything to her death (WHY, JO ROWLING, WHY?!) at the Battle of Hogwarts. Review or I'll Crucio.**

Kings Cross Station is completely jammed with people, wizards and Muggles alike, and there's a flutter of excitement in the pit of my stomach. The first of seven trips here. I've been waiting to go to Hogwarts my entire life.

"Bellatrix. Come along. This place is crawling with Muggles." My father sniffs distastefully. He's right, though. The magic-less filth are milling around everywhere. I can hardly be too bothered about that today, though; I've been waiting for this moment for eleven years. Mother and Father aren't so worried about the scum at every turn either; their first child to go to Hogwarts. They're proud.

My sisters are a different matter.

They're completely ruining it. Narcissa, barely seven years old, hasn't stopped snivelling all day. Mother said it was sweet that she's going to miss me, but I know better. She's only moping because it's so long before she gets to come. Andromeda's older, nine, but may as well be five with her relentless whining. Their jealousy began the day I got my letter. Still, they're both just babies.

"Are we going through the wall, too, Mother? Please? Please? I'll be good." Andromeda begs as we near the barrier separating the useless Muggle dirt from the wizarding world. Andromeda's being stupid. As usual. They're all coming through to say goodbye. They'd better stop trying to muscle in on _my_ day. I'm elder and I'm better than they are.

"Remember what we told you, Bella," Mother says "You run straight at the wall, no stopping."

_I'm not an idiot_. I take a deep breath. This is it. I run, and in a second, I'll be on my way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I almost laugh at how pathetic Cissy and Dromeda are being.

I clutch my trolley and run.

A huge grin breaks out on my face when I'm through to the other side. I barely notice my parents, and my sisters, dizzy and red-faced with excitement (or fake crying, in Narcissa's case) appear behind me. Past the clouds of people, the famed Hogwarts Express gleams scarlet and steaming. I can't wait to be on it. Hogwarts! I remember what my Uncle Orion was saying to me the day I received my letter. 'The key moment in any young witch or wizard's life is their first trip on board the Hogwarts Express,'. I laugh in excitement and Narcissa, clearly devoid of attention for a millisecond too long, starts pretending to cry.

"Narcissa, do shut up." I snap, tugging my hand away from hers. "Wait your million years like a good girl."

"Bellatrix." Father warns. I glare at him. Mother bends down to do something to my hair and I swat her away.

"Well, Bella, this is it!" Mother says eagerly. "Do well. Concentrate in lessons. Don't worry about the sorting, you'll make Slytherin, I know it." She smiles broadly. "Have fun. Make us proud."

"Write to me." Narcissa demands stoutly, face pink.

"Not if you don't shut up."

"Bellatrix!" Father snaps. I raise my eyebrows and glance around the station. Fleeting farewells are made all around, the raucous buzz of screeching owls and pounding feet and sobbing families fills the platform. I'd better board soon. Go to Hogwarts! _And escape my sisters._

"Kreature." I snap harshly. Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion lent us their new house elf, just for today, as a farewell gift for Uncle Orion's 'favourite niece'. He calls Andromeda and Cissy that too, but I'm sure I'm the only one he means it to. The hideous house-elf scum slopes from where he lurked behind my father. "See to my things." I command. "This year would be good." I kick at it.

Father doesn't say anything but he nods approvingly. He's always saying how Narcissa just ignores house-elves and Andromeda's too soft on them. Andromeda's too soft on _everything_.

"Well. Bye. I'll be back for the holidays." I say carelessly. It's so near, I just can't stand waiting around to get on the train any longer.

"Goodbye, Bellatrix!"

"Farewell!"

"Write!"

"Bye Bella!"

"Mum, why can't I go yet?"

I roll my eyes and hop onto the train, the moment before it pulls away from the platform. My family shout something at me, but they're lost to the crowds as I stand at the window, watching King's Cross fall away. I turn away and search for a free seat.

I find my hand sliding into my pocket to close around my wand. _My wand._ Just the thought of my own wand! We bought it from Olivander's a few days ago. I think it's perfect, polished and curved like the talon of some great bird of prey, or like an extension of my own arm. Older students fill compartments everywhere. I have to prowl the full length of the train before I find a carriage that looks empty, but for two boys, who are maybe first or second years. I slide it open and walk in. One's reading a book and barely glances up but the other, a chubby boy clutching tightly onto a toad, frowns.

"Who're _you_?" Toadboy asks thickly.

"Who're _you_?" I retort back at him. He frowns again. The boy with the book answers me instead.

"Rod. Rodolphus Lestrange." He sticks out his hand.

"Bellatrix. Bellatrix Black." I shake it. I try to crane my head to get a look at what he's reading but I can't see. Rodolphus seems ok. The little fat one with the toad, on the other hand, does not. He's staring at me stupidly. I can tell he's going to be very annoying unless I get rid of him.

"A toad?" I look at the plump green toad in his arms. "Really? An owl or a cat and you bring a tired old _toad_?" He looks a little offended but in no rush to move.

"He's an heirloom."

Rodolphus Lestrange snorts, not looking up from his book. Toadboy glares at him.

"Stupid sort of heirloom." I go on. I've started to really enjoy myself now. "You'd be the beggar Hufflepuff sort, then?" I'm stretching it now but I can't stop. It's too much fun. Toadboy notices I'm still standing by the door.

"If you've just come in to insult me, y-you c-can just leave ag-g-gain."

"I'm not hear to insult you." I smile reassuringly and plop down next t o Lestrange. "I'm here to mock you."

The boy next to me laughs again, not looking up from his book. Half of me wants to talk to him, but provoking stutters in the boy with the toad is a lot more fun.

"W-well you can go any-anyway."

I laugh.

"Why should she take orders from you?" Rodolphus Lestrange says eyebrows raised, watching over his book. Toadboy has no answer. I realise in that moment how much he resembles his toad. Lestrange is smirking into his book. I groan in annoyance. Toady is _still_ staying. What's wrong with him?

"Get out." I command flatly. _Just go away!_ "Out. Leave. _Now_."

"Y-you c-can't make me – me leave." _Yes I can. I'm a Black. Black's do not give in. Black's are strong._

My hand goes to my wand and I draw it out, the polished tip pointed at him. His watery eyes widen. Pathetic. I smirk at the fear creeping into them. If he doesn't leave now, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this. I don't actually know any spells. Thankfully, he hurries out, gathering up his toad. He mutters something about 'no need for wands' before he's gone. I let out a laugh. The boy next to me joins in, slamming his books shut.

"Nice one." He laughs. "You can bet they'd be no need for _his_ want. You can just know it's a hand-me-down splinter of rubbish. He'll be in Hufflepuff for sure. Or, no, worse, _Gryffindor_."

This boy seems like my kind of person. "What did you say your name was, again? Rodolphus?" He nods and I, in turn, confirm my name to be Bellatrix. "What're you reading?"

He shoves the book at me. It's a heavy tome, bound with dark blue leather.

"History of the Dark Arts. Volume Two. Found it in my family library. Really interesting actually."

"Cool. Let's have a look."

And so Rodolphus and I discuss and laugh about all these amazing dark wizards. Rod is a little annoying, a little eager, but I'm not having a bad time. At some point, rain begins to explode against the steamy window pane, and I take the bruised, brooding sky to be a good sign. Rain and storms have always been counted lucky by myself. More interesting things happen in the rain.

After a while, a boy with blindingly white-blonde hair walks in, first-year, and announces himself as Astor Greengrass, and joins our talk. He seems ok as well. Less mildly-irritating than Rodolphus Lestrange.

"So?" He says "What're you looking foreward to?" He has a very precise, but drawling voice.

"Curses." I grin simply "The Unforgiveable Curses." Astor Greengrass grins back.

"Yeah. My brother says Muggle Studies is meant to be good."

My grin disappears. So does Lestrange's. Astor takes in our expressions and laughs. "Joke. I don't even have a brother."

"Good." I say darkly. Fraternising with the magic-devoid animals is nothing to joke around about. That's what Father always says anyway. Lestrange laughs. I don't. Rodolphus Lestrange is eager to please, but he's a pureblood, and he's a friend.

"I have a brother." Rodolphus says. "Rabastan. He's starting his second year. He said he'd come see me once he'd caught up with his friends. He should be here soon."

True to his word, Rabastan Lestrange is in our carriage within the half hour. Rod introduces us all. Rabastan smiles at my name. "Black? Your father wouldn't be Cygnus Black, would he?"

"Yes. He would." I frown.

"He's friends with our father." Rab turns to Rod. "Why didn't you say?"

Rodolphus flushes furiously scarlet. "I – I didn't..."

"Evidently." I snort.

Astor laughs and Rodolphus turns redder.

A low, loud, hum of excitement bubbles up through the train. I wipe away the condensation of the window and realise why. Hogsmeade station.


	2. Welcome Home

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Two**

**Welcome Home**

**A/N ~ She's back! My favourite fictional character ever (aside from Morgana Pendragon and Arya Stark... So not really my favourite character ever. Kind of a really close third. Um. Move along. Please.) I seem to have a thing for life-story fics, don't I? Well, this one's started younger than my Morgana one and Morgana dies a lot younger than Bella. So. They'll probably be the same length anyway... Whatever. If you don't review I'll Crucio.**

Hogwarts. My life is about to begin. Rabastan runs off to find his friends in another compartment. The train is chaos. Streams of pushing, yelling, robed students rushing and clamouring to squeeze out of the train in the human river, confused first years milling around aimlessly outside. I slide open the door, shouldering and shoving and stamping on feet until I drop off the train onto the platform. My eyes flicker around; I barely notice Rodolphus falling to my side, breathing hard, and Astor jumping down from the Express to stand smirking on my other side.

Somebody's yelling for first years to follow. It's still raining hard, silvery lashes shimmering in the darkness, settling on my face, in my hair. Hogwarts. I feel alive.

"Come _on_, Bella. The boats are that way. I think. I think that's what he's saying, I don't – "

"Oh, shut up and follow me." I grin, and Astor, Rodolphus and I fight through the crowds towards the shouting figure. Father told me that the boats carry only the first years across the huge black lake. Ignoring my two new friends, I shove my way through the the front of a small cloud of eleven-year-olds are standing around.

The figure, blurry grey through the rain and the dark, shouts us into the little boats, and the three of us collapse into one. It's already soaking to sit on, wood softened with rain, and it rocks furiously whenever we move. My robes are plastered, a second skin, to my arms and legs, hair clinging desperately to my face and back. The boats pull away of their own accord.

By the time we reach the castle, talk everywhere has turned, eagerly, to Houses and the Sorting. There are two others in the boat with us, an exceedingly annoying blonde girl – Rita something – and a boy who's not speaking to any of us. Prefect direct us to the Great Hall as we all but drop from the boats, weighed down with waterlogged robes. As we file into the rainy-roofed hall, older students at the four long tables are shouting and chatting and staring.

We're to be called up alphabetically. Black. B. I'm near the beginning. Of course, what none of us are expecting is for the battered old hat on the stool at the head of the hall to start singing. When it – and the pointless cheers that follow – are done, the first name is called; "Abbot, Hollie," becoming a Hufflepuff. The said house table booms cheers as she stumbles over to the table.

By the time we get to the 'B's my heart it racing erratically. A girl becomes a Gryffindor. A boy becomes a Ravenclaw. A boy becomes a Gryffindor.

"Black, Bellatrix!"

I stride to the stool, and the hat is placed over my wet hair.

I hear it murmuring in my ear.

"A new Black..." it's saying "A noble family indeed... Oh yes... I know just where to put you..." And then, louder, to the hall, it screams "SLYTHERIN!"

The green-and-silver decorated Slytherin table erupts into cheers. I smirk and sit where Rabastan Lestrange is waving me over. I notice the hat varies its choosing time. It barely touches Astor's head before he joins me at the Slytherin table, but Matthew Markham, the toad boy from the train, sits for minutes before being made a – ugh – Gryffindor, and Rodolphus waits but moments before sitting next to Astor opposite me.

When the laboriously boring sorting is over, the head master, Professor Dumbledore, approaches the podium to say a few words (literally. Crazy old man) and welcomes us all, reminds us of rules (I mentally note a few so I know to break them at some point this year) and with the words 'let the feast begin' a truly astonishing amount of food piles high on the golden plates. I notice Dumbledore is growing a thick, dark-brown beard. It looks ridiculous.

The raw bubbles of excitement are rising amongst me and my fellow first-years. Chatter fills the Slytherin table as students fill their plates, talking and laughing.

Rodolphus tells the story of how I kicked Matthew and his toad out of our compartment on the train to anyone who'll listen, while Astor and I compare wands with Rabastan and his best friend, a boy in his year called Varys Nott, who is interested in Wandlore. After a while, the plates clean and refill themselves with desserts, and Rodolphus and I eat an entire apple pie ourselves, listening avidly to Astor quizzing Rab and Varys about first years' flying lessons.

Of course, first years aren't permitted to bring their own brooms, and by an unspoken agreement are never picked for house teams (a pointless pair of rules) but I am looking foreward to flying lessons. I don't need them, of course, I fly _brilliantly_, but it's hardly a lesson, just getting to fly for an hour, and it's a fantastic opportunity to show off.

I inwardly curse myself for forgetting to lock away my state-of-the-art racing broom in my cupboard, as I originally intended to. It's the newest and best model out, the Nimbus One-Twenty, and Andromeda and Narcissa are so jealous. Why did I leave it out? Damn. I bet Cissy and Dromeda have their sticky little fingers all over it by now, and Narcissa doesn't even like flying that much, just the prospect of it, and Andromeda's hopeless and Quidditch no matter how much she follows it. Family tradition states you don't get your first broom until you're eleven – kind of a celebration of getting into Hogwarts. Still, I'm at Hogwarts and they're not – not for years, anyway. They should be so jealous right now.

By the time the Slytherin prefects lead us down to the common room and dormitories, I'm beginning to regret taking that last slice of pie Rod offered me. I'm not the only one. The blonde idiot from the boat, Rita, is turning green at the Ravenclaw table. Ha.

When the prefect shows us the the common room, I can't hide my delight. It's huge, stone, gleaming a watery emerald green. _My mother, my father, my entire family have stood here_, I think_, and my children will stand here too, one day_.

"It's directly beneath the lake. That's what makes it so green, Bella. Did you know that?" Rodolphus whispers to me. He's quite annoying himself, actually.

"Yes."

"Girls dormitories are on the right, boys to the left. Your things have been brought up. Take this time to unpack and get ready for bed. Nobody is to be up out of bed after lights-out. That is to be understood."

_Well there's another rule I'm just going to have to break this year_.

My dormitory is smaller than I'd thought, room enough for five of us Slytherins. Slytherin is the best house, everybody knows that. Hufflepuff is a bit pathetic and boring, Ravenclaws are stupid sneaking know-it-alls and Gryffindor is the worst by far. I don't know any of the girls in my dorm and nor do I really want to. They all seem idiots to me, though they're all Slytherins and purebloods. It seems I found my true friends on the train.

Still, the girl to my left, something Carrow, seems better. She starts talking to me as she heaves her trunk, trying to open it no no avail. "My god this is heavy," she complains. _Well. You've probably got less strength than Cissy_.

"You complete wimp." I say. I cross my legs and sit back on my bed, smirking. She glares at me and fumbles with her case, still not budging under her fingers. I'm torn between the urge to watch her struggle and the urge to show off. The latter wins out. I ease her trunk open with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

"My seven year old sister would probably open that." I restrain a laugh and hold out my hand. "Bellatrix. Black." She glares at my hand, but it's a very weak glare.

"Alecto," she mutters, shaking my hand roughly, quickly. "Carrow."

"Pureblood?" I demand. The first thing I ask when meeting new people. I refuse to know anyone who's a half-breed Muggle spawned dirt. The shame it would bring to the Black family.

"Of course." She looks a little offended.

"In that case – Hi."

That night, the rain howls as I close my eyes for my first sleep in the yet-unfamiliar Hogwarts bed. _Welcome to Hogwarts, Bellatrix_, I tell myself as I drift off to sleep, _Welcome home._


	3. Unforgivably Skeeter

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Three**

**Unforgivably Skeeter**

**A/N ~ I just watched Terms of Endearment and for some reason I couldn't stop laughing uncontrollably and manically pretty much the whole way through it. Which isn't good. I might not be entirely sane. Review or I will Sectumsempra your lungs.**

The next morning I wake sleepily to someone nudging me up.

"Get off me, Narcissa, or I swear I'll Crucio you..." I murmur drowsily, eyes closed. Cissy wakes me up too early every day.

"Bella. Bella. Wake up."

I spring up, throwing my covers back and thrusting my wand out blindly in front of me. Then my eyes snap open. I'm in a stone room, filled with beds and Hogwarts students. Hogwarts. I'm in Hogwarts. There's a scrawny brown-haired girl looking at me like I'm mad. Alecto Carrow. I drop my wand down.

"What's Crucio?" Alecto asks. "And who's Narcissa?"

I groan. "Narcissa's my sister. Crucio is one of the three Unforgivable Curses. God, don't you know _anything_?"

Alecto frowns at me. "Cool wand. Can I see it?"

"No."

Alecto and I meet Astor and Rabastan and the others in the cold emerald glow of the Slytherin common room. The sky of the great hall is clear and the benches are packed with students . Rod, Astor, Rabastan, Alecto, Rodolphus and I sit at the Slytherin table and I notice that the food laid out matches the spectacular (yet, of course, not worth my impressment) array of last night's feast.

My first breakfast at Hogwarts is going brilliantly, full of chatter and japes between the six of us, until a shrill scream of laughter cuts through the hall from the Ravenclaw table. I whip my head around.

"What the _hell_," Astor snorts, with a look of complete disgust "Is _that_?"

Alecto Carrow glances around, perplexed and Rod notices the evidently furious look on my face.

"Something that's going to be dead soon." He says.

"Why?" laughs Varys.

"Because Bellatrix's angry with it."

Everyone around me laughs, but I'm definitely not amused. Anything with a laugh that annoying can't be good. It lets out another shriek. I push myself up and glare as I storm over to Ravenclaw.

"Bella, what _are_ you doing?" Rabastan asks, slightly amused, eyebrows knitted together.

I don't bother replying. The laugh shrieks again. And suddenly I know where it's coming from. The blonde idiot from the boat. This girl needs shutting up. She's ruining my first every day at Hogwarts, and it's not even begun yet! I just want to enjoy my school start. I'm a Black. Black's are superior to the rest, Father always says so.

"Somebody tell me what on _earth_ that noise was!" I demand, slamming my hand down in a gaggle of giggling Ravenclaws. Blondie looks around.

"Hello?" she says, suppressing a laugh.

One of the girls flanking her nudges her shoulder. "Rita!" she squeals, erupting into a fit of giggles. Rita Skeeter's mouth twitches.

How _dare_ they?! How dare they laugh like that, like five year olds, over me, myself, a Black! How dare they!? They'll learn, they'll learn soon enough! I'll teach them! My father always taught me that lesser often need their own lessons before they learn to show some respect for betters.

"Yes, very funny, aren't I? I'm very amusing! I'll be even funnier when you're _mad_. Will you be laughing then? Once I've _Crucio-_ed you to insanity? Oh yes, ha ha, Rita and her little lemmings all locked up in St. Mungo's, very, very funny."

Nobody's laughing now. I've achieved quite the effect I was hoping for. Quite a crowd has gathered by now, and I'm pretty sure it's Astor who yells 'Fight her, Bella, Fight her!"

I pull out my wand, palms sweating, smirk wide. _Where the hell am I going with this? I don't know any spells. Oh well. I'll get to that later._

"Aw, Rita, don't be a spoilsport. Get your little twig out, go on. Dare you. You think I'm funny do you? How will you be laughing soon? Go on! _Get up and fight!"_

I'm really quite enjoying my little speech, until a stern-faced plump redheaded fourth-year steps firmly between my outstretched wand and Rita ad her friends, wide-eyes and gaping on the Ravenclaw bench.

"Stop!" She shouts firmly. "Now somebody tell me what _is_ going _on_!"

Rita Skeeter and her gaggle of idiots start a high-pitched stream of nonsense, all at the same time. I pick out a few words like 'savage' 'attack' and 'Slytherin' more than others. I'm trying very hard not to laugh. Ginger frowns at me.

"And you? What have you to say for yourself? Threatening the little ones!"

"Bella _is_ the little ones!" Someone yells, and I think it was Varys. I can't suppress the laugh then.

"And who are you?" I retort. She sniffs distastefully. She looks a little like an oversized gerbil.

"Molly Prewett. And if you are a first-year, then I'm older than you, anyhow. And about to fetch a professor."

"Ok, then."

"What's your name? Bella? Bella who?"

I smirk. Let her call her professor. What're they going to do anyway?

"Bellatrix Black."

"I'll remember that."

When she glances down I realise my wand's still pointed up at her chest.

And that's when the professor comes.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?"

The witch is young, and Scottish by the accent, with a tight black bun and severe glare that somebody twice her age should sport. Her face is furious.

"This – this – _first year_ was threatening her fellow students!" Molly Prewett exclaims angrily.

"Oh, I know what happened, Ms Prewett, I was watching the whole thing! You held yourself well, Molly, now go. I will handle this. Ten points to Gryffindor for your good intention." She seems to finally notice the high, squealing, gushing babble of Rita and her friends is still loud and shrill behind her. "Oh calm yourself, girl! And as for you, Miss Black, I think you'd better come with me. Now."

Of course, by this point, quite an audience has gathered. The fragile silence shatters in seconds, erupting into mutters and whispers and – from somewhere in my friends' direction – muffled laughter. I trudge after the professor, wryly waving at my group from where she's marching me out of the hall.

She pauses by a large, stone griffin. "Peppermint cream." She declares loudly, and for a moment, I think she's completely lost the plot, but the statue groans in protest as it turns slowly, revealing a staircase. The door to Dumbledore's office is a griffin-door. I think that might be favouritism.

The famed office of Professor Dumbledore, headmaster for a good ten years or more. And I haven't even had one lesson yet. How exciting.

The man is sitting at his desk, eating small, round sweets from a paper bag like he's Andromeda's age. The witch thrusts me in front of him. The man – Dumbledore – glances up, as if only vaguely interested, and would rather just sit and eat sweets all day.

"Professor McGonagall. What's this one done?" He has a wry half-smile on his face, as if vaguely amused.

"This child – one Bellatrix Black – has not even had one day at Hogwarts and has already been threatening another group of students! Entirely unprovoked! The girl had pulled out her wand!" Dumbledore glances from McGonagall, stern and fuming, and me, glaring icily.

"And what did you think she was going to do with it, Minerva? You say the girl's not had a single lesson yet."

"That isn't the point, Albus! The girl was threatening her with one of the –" She lowers her voice " – _Unforgivable Curses_."

Albus Dumbledore is suddenly on his feet, serious now.

"Leave, Minerva." The Scottish witch protests a little before departing.

"Miss Black, I need you to tell me what you said to this student, when your wand was out?"

I glare at him. "I just asked her whether she'd still be laughing if she was in St. Mungo's."

"And why, Miss Black, would the children in question _be_ in St. Mungo's?"

"Because everyone knows Crucio makes you go insane."

"How did you come to know of such a curse?" He demands furiously.

I glare at him. Who _hasn't_ heard of Crucio? My parents go on about it quite a bit.

"I assure you, Miss Black, this is no joking matter. To use an Unforgivable Curse _is_ unforgivable. The use of any such is a one-way ticket to Azkaban – to destroy your soul. Did you know this, Bellatrix Black?"

_Yes_. "No."

"Well now you do, and I need not tell you that if you utter the word 'Crucio' again under my roof, you'll be gone before you can say Quidditch. Do you understand me?"

"Well I'm not stupid. What do you take me for?"

"An eleven-year-old witch. Your hair is getting in your eyes, if you didn't know. I should love to grow my beard to that length, Miss Black, did you know that?"

_Crazy old man._

"Now, I will take twenty points from Slytherin for your insolence. Count yourself lucky you've not been expelled. I won't keep you any longer. I believe your first lesson is Potions, down in the dungeons. I'd hurry if I were you – Professor Slughorn does love punctuality and you are already late. Leave, Bellatrix."

_What a lunatic._


	4. Cauldrons and Cats

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Four**

**Slughorn and McGonagall**

**A/N ~ Well, it's time for Bellatrix's first lessons at Hogwarts. And she didn't exactly get off on the right foot with McGonagall. Review before I start Imperio-ing people to. **

I take my time strolling down to the dungeons. I'm already late, and in a school so full of opportunity who cares about potions? When I eventually find the classroom, the professor -Slughorn – is not impressed. Rodolphus gives a shout of "Bella!" but aside from that the students remain silent.

"And hello to you, girl, decided to join us so late in my lesson," he says. Slughorn. What sort of a name is Slug_horn_?

"Hello sir." I say cheerfully. "I'll just take a little seat then, shall I..?"

"No, you most certainly shall not. What's your name, girl? Why have you come into my lesson so late?"

"Bellatrix Black, and I was in Professor Dumbledore's office. _Sir_."

"And what did he say, Black? Why where you kept from my lesson?"

"Well." I start. By now we've gathered the interest of the rest of the class. Astor, Rodolphus and Alecto are trying to mouth things at me, trying not to laugh. "He took some points from Slytherin, ate some sweets, told me my hair was going everywhere and said he wanted a longer beard."

People laugh, notably Astor, but Professor Slughorn gives him an angry look and he shuts up.

"Well, seeing as Miss Black has finally decided to join us, we can get cracking. First, though, five points from Slytherin for Miss Black's affected punctuality. Somebody explain to our late friend here what I have asked you to do?"

Alecto puts her hand up.

"Miss - Carrow, is it?"

"Yeah. In pairs, attempt a Sleeping potion."

"Yes. Just so I can see where you all are. Page twenty-four to twenty-five in your books, I think you'll find, Miss Black. Now, class, back to where you were. Black, join Carrow." He notices the look on our faces and changes his mind. "On second thoughts; Carrow – with... Anton, is it?"

"Astor." He corrects sourly.

"Yes, yes, that too. Bellatrix, you join – you, there, what's your name, boy?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange."

Slughorn beams. "Ah, I believe I taught your father! Good man, your father. Liked him. Now – go!"

Soon, the cavernous stone room is filled with steam, humidity and the buzz of our first ever lesson at Hogwarts. Things are not going so well. We take Potions with Gryffindors, and they're absolute hell. And, of course, Rodolphus, as much as he is my friend, is being a complete and utter idiot.

"Bella! You're supposed to _crush_ it, like that, like_ they're_ doing, not like – "

" – it won't go small enough that way! Just trust me, and keep stirring. Faster, Rod, you're not going fast enough, you're supposed to go faster, and then – "

"No! I can't go faster, it's too _thick_ – "

"Then you've obviously done something wrong!" I yell. He looks close to tears.

The room is boiling hot, and nobody seems to be faring any better than us. In front of us, Astor and Alecto have just added something that's caused their potion to hiss and bubble alarmingly, while to our left, Matthew Toadboy's potion looks suspiciously like pumpkin juice.

Meanwhile, Slughorn patrols the class, frowning and giving verdicts as he peers anxiously into cauldrons. He sighs when he reaches us. Rodd's face is bright red and he's suppressing tears, my hair's doubled it's usual size and I'm certain I look absolutely furious. Our potion is changing colour, but since everyone is equally useless, everyone's is different colours anyway.

He peers into our cauldron and frowns.

"How the...?"

"What?" I yell "What did you do, Rod?!"

"Bella! You might have done something too, you know, you might've..." Rodolphus trails off nervously.

"Students, you have failed in producing for me a satisfactory sleeping draught. But what amazes me is, this seems to be the – albeit riddled with many problems – the basework of the Wolfsbane potion, a brew I would not expect you to make for years... Tell me, did you crush your roots or slice them? Did you stir your potion fast enough?"

I glare at Rod. I knew to crush them really.

"It was all – " I begin, to be cut off by Rodolphus before I can say 'his fault'.

"My fault. Bellatrix told me to crush them, but I didn't listen. It's all my fault, Professor Slughorn, not Bellatrix's. I crushed them. I didn't think they'd go small enough, see..."

"Oh. Well. Never mind, Mr. Lestrange. You have produced a draught extremely advanced for your age. I should think five points to Slytherin should be in order, for sheer dumb luck. Class, place a phial of your potion onto my desk. You are dismissed. Oh, and in the future, try to arrive on time, Miss Black."

"I'll do my best." I scowl.

Astor and Alecto catch up to us on our way out, to our second ever lesson at Hogwarts – Transfiguration.

After finally managing to thwart the rather annoying and hyper-active staircases, we find ourselves in a classroom with the stern young McGonagall on time. I take a seat at the back, squashed in between Astor and Alecto.

She glares at me from behind her desk. No doubt things are still a little tetchy from breakfast. I smirk at her. When the whole class has managed to find the classroom, McGonagall stands and performs a long-winded speech about how Transfiguration is the most dangerous subject, the most difficult, something like that. At some point she turns the table into a pig and back, and at another she turns into a cat, but I'm too busy drawing a rather amusing sketch of her as a dragon, before she sets us to work turning matchsticks into needles. Before I can look up, she's at my desk.

"And I warn you, Miss Black, I will not tolerate any insolence in my classes. You will behave, or you will be gone." She glances down at my drawing, which she incinerates with a wave of her wand. "Understand?"

I nod, mock-solemnly, and a few people titter uncertainly.

"I mean it, Miss Black." She calls as she walks back to her desk. _I'm sure you do, McGonagall. I'm sure you do._


	5. The Riddle of Riddle

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Five**

**Riddles of Riddle**

**A/N ~ DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING, SINGING THE SONG OF ANGRY MEN, IT IS THE MUSIC OF A PEOPLE WHO WILL NOT BE SLAVES AGAIN! Sorry about that. I watched Les Mis for the fifty billionth time. Again. And I know all the words to all the songs. HBC is brilliant as Madame Thenardier. Anyways, I've had a few people ask me about what's going on with Rodolphus right now; well, he's already pretty much in love with her, and to her, he's just 'the annoying friend'. Always will be. On with the fic! Review or I will SECTUMSEMPRA your lungs.**

**This is going to be a short one, I'm afraid, but I'll update ASAP. Also... Nothing more is going to happen with Tom Riddle until after she'd left school. And becomes a Death Eater. **

And so we settle in at Hogwarts.

Rodolphus, Astor, Alecto and I (and Varys and Rabastan, outside of lessons) become at home at the castle. We make friends, we make enemies (the whole school knows about my encounter with Rita Skeeter, and many have taken to calling me 'the Crucio girl'), we get to know our professors and their lessons one by one, good and bad, and endure the occasional (regular, in my case) detention.

In fact, it is in a detention that I first hear the name Tom Riddle.

Yet again, it's Professor McGonagall who has me wasting my time at her table. I didn't even do anything that bad this time. Well. All I know is that I'm slouching sourly into her office while the other five are happily relaxing in the Slytherin common room. Where other, more reasonable, professors give me detentions for doing, or not doing something, Professor McGonagall prefers to blame me for absolutely everything that goes on in her classroom.

I hate her, and she hates me too.

Her face curdles like sour milk when she sees me.

"Miss Black. Sit. I had hoped not to continue the frequency of our little meetings."

"Well, as did I, but that doesn't seem to be happening, does it?"

Her lip curls. "Mind your tongue, Miss Black." She sighs disapprovingly. "May I remind you that you are speaking to your professor! And also, that this is a form of punishment. I'm beginning to become unsure of their effectiveness. You're a very talented girl, Bellatrix, and if you spend more time behaving I'm sure you could do well in my classes." She sighs, as if I pain her deeply. I do. I intent to, though. McGonagall is a stupid name, in any case. I'll bet she's a half-breed abomination, or even a sickening little mudblood. "Now, I'm to speak to Professor Dumbledore. Stay here, continue your detention form last week. I want no funny business, girl."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I smirk innocently.

In fact, though, as I'm writing out lines, McGonagall and the headmaster are talking next door, with grave voices hushed. I can just make it out, though, if I concentrate hard enough. I drift to press my ear against the door, absent-mindedly tossing away a thick strand of hair that falls into my eyes.

"Minerva." He greets formally.

"Albus."

"I see no point in stalling, Minerva, so I'm going to head straight to the point. I regret to inform you, I've been looking into the death of Hepizibah Smith."

I can hear McGonagall is angry now, however concealed. "Albus, the woman's death was a dreadful accident. You can't think – "

"Tom Riddle."

Who? My heart's pounding. I let my hair fall over my face without bother. I'm hearing something I'm not supposed to. I'm hearing something nobody's supposed to. I'm hearing something better left unheard. It's happened enough times for me to know. There's something odd about the name Tom Riddle. It's almost... dangerous. It's just a name...

"He was the last person to see her, Minerva. And people were talking. Say he was questioning her about the –"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Albus! You may be the greatest headmaster that Hogwarts has seen in a long time, but I will hear no more of this madness about young Mr. Riddle and the death of an innocent old woman!"

I hear her moving briskly and jump frantically back to my seat, trying to look natural there, heart jumping up into my throat.

Who is Tom Riddle? Why is there a strange, bad feeling around his name? Who was Hepizibah Smith? Why is she dead? The questions buzz around my head like a swarm of angry hornets. I try to put them back away in my mind, but his name keeps coming back to me.

And as I'm drifting off to sleep that night, it's the last thing I'm conscious of.

_Tom Riddle..._


	6. Scream of Halloween

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Six**

**The Screams of Halloween**

**A/N ~ I am so sorry for the spastic updating process. Seriously. It's just we don't have Wi-Fi at our house, since it broke, so as you can tell, I am dead inside. So I'm doing this on my laptop at the library, which is a bit far away since our car broke. No car and no Wi-Fi. I would probably have killed myself by now if I wasn't so ecstatic about playing Fantine in Les Mis. Anyways, enter eleven-year-old badass Bella.**

We're so caught up in the welcome buzz of Hogwarts life that Halloween's abrupt arrival takes us all completely by surprise. And Hogwarts, for certain, rises to the occasion. Huge ornately-carved pumpkins litter tables, and the ghosts have come out specially; the Bloody Baron, the almost headless weirdo of Gryffindor and the crazy little poltergeist who finds nothing more amusing than throwing students' own food at them.

In fact, it is he that first plants the idea in my head. Peeves, I think they call him, a manic little man in a stupid hat, whizzing about throwing sausages at people, students and faculty alike. Nobody seems to take much notice; apparently he does this a lot. He sings a banal song as he zooms through the air.

"What's he saying?" Rodolphus asks me. Somehow, over the past month, Rod has developed something like awe whenever he speaks to me. He seems to think I know everything. I ignore him and take my time to laugh pointedly at Rita Skeeter, Peeves' latest victim, a large dark gravy stain spreading across her shoulder. _Idiot_. She sniffs distastefully and glares at me, muttering something to one of her lemmings that and they all dissolve into a fit of giggles. They are the most mindless and irritating trolls I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Their latest fixation is my hair. If any of them pass me in the halls between classes it's "Nice hair, Bellatrix," or they just stare and laugh. Of course, they seem to shut up very quickly when I make a comment implying the Dark Arts or Crucio. It's quite funny actually.

Peeves strikes up a song about the rest of the castle being empty, and that's what gives me the idea.

And I'm over to Rita in seconds, my friends leaning over to listen intently.

"Right, Skeeter, I hate you and you hate me. I want this settled. Meet me outside now. Sneak out. Bring a..." My eyes skim over the gaggle of morons she surrounds herself with and I give a strong look of distaste. "Friend."

I can't stop myself grinning.

And I'm so caught up in the moment, my hearts racing in anticipation and I've really done it now.

I'm making my way to the door, enveloped in the sudden excitement of a snap decision, my friends bubbling around me like flies.

"Bella! What's happening?" Alecto demands.

"I'm settling the stuff with Blondie."

"How?"

_God, you can be stupid sometimes._

"Duelling."

In that one word, Alecto, Astor, Rodolphus, Rabastan and Varys, explode into shouts and laughs and cautions. I'm hearing none of it, running through the meagre list of spells I've learned. I'll bet anything that Rita knows less, though. And suddenly they're all firing question at me, but with a grim excitement rising through our group, I can say nothing, do nothing but laugh.

When we're outside the hall, we wait a good ten minutes before Rita and The Rita's come chattering and squealing out of the door.

"Right." I say, refusing to acknowledge the nerves settling in. They're not nerves. Nerves are for the weak, and I'm Bellatrix Black; I'm not nervous. And I don't do weak.

"Skeeter. Just outside the Forbidden Forest. Now. Wizard Duel. Standard rules apply. Unless you're to scared?" I raise an eyebrow at her, savouring the look on her face. Astor's laughing.

"What?" Rita hisses.

"You heard. We're duelling this out. Forbidden Forest. With your second." I turn and sweep my eyes over my friends. I'm not going to need a second, of course not, but it's only common courtesy. "Rabastan." I decide. He's a second-year, he'll know more than the rest. Not that I'm going to need him. "You're my second. Forest – now."

Rodolphus looks crushed. It's not like I'd pick him. _Ever_. For _anything_. I call him my friend, and I let him hang around with us, but he is an idiot. Oh well. He'll live. Rita's disappeared inside the squealing, squeaking mass of her friends.

"B – Bellatrix," she says, suddenly thrust out. "The – the Forbidden Forest is – is forbidden! That's why it's called that – we – we can't go there – " She breaks off hopelessly. I exchange a look with Astor and Alecto and all of us laugh coldly at her. Typical. She's _scared_. There isn't anything in there anyway – it's all myths and rubbish, everyone knows that.

"Rules," I declare "are for fools and Hufflepuffs." I want this duel now; I want this fight. I am hungry for her defeat. She glares daggers at me.

Let the games begin...

The Halloween air is cold and brutal, and clouds form from our heavy breathing. 'Dragon breath' Narcissa calls it. She's an idiot too. Rita and her second, some girl with a rather annoying lisp just asking to be mocked, are huddling nervously t the edge of the forest, whispering fast and scared in the cold evening.

"If you're too scared, Rita, you can always back out." I assure her "Little Wita fwightened and doesn't want to play anymore?"

I know I'm overdoing this a little, but I can't help it. It's in my nature. Rabastan smirks behind me.

"No." Rita says tightly "Not at all."

My wand is out then, and hers too, but I've been running through all the spells and curses I've ever heard of in my head, whereas she's probably been running away terrified in her head.

"Wait!" Rita shrieks the same time I let rip.

"Calvario!" She ducks. I miss. "Locomotor wibbly!" I shout. I hit and Rodolphus bursts into fits of laughter. She looks like such an idiot I can't help it either, shrieking with laughter as I fire curse after curse.

Until the three Gryffindors are on us.

I'm not sure about names. One is Jason Thomas, for certain, another might be something Patil, and I'm not sure about the third. We've had our share of less than civilised talks with this trio, and here they are, storming up to us now.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're _doing_?!" Thomas roars at me. I nearly splutter with laughter._ God, he's such a Gryffindor._

"I don't think anything. I _know_ I'm simply taking amusement in Skeeter here's jelly legs."

"You _cursed_ a fellow student?!" The one I think's Patil yells.

"Yeah." I say evenly. What are they going to do about it anyway? Idiots. What is wrong with Gryffindors? I've asked myself that so many times. Their stupid urge to _do good_, protect people, big themselves and their egos up, make themselves heroes. They're delusional, the lot of them. Rita Skeeter isn't anything to them, so why are they bothered? I don't get it. Why would they want to save a random student? They won't. I'll make sure of that.

"_CALVARIO!" _I shout again, louder, but Patil's in my way. It hits him instead.

And that's what sets everybody cursing everybody.


	7. Trial and Consequence

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Seven**

**Trial and Consequence**

**A/N ~ I couldn't leave you hanging after the end of the last chapter. I'm not **_**that**_** mean. So I guess I'm back up the library again... I might as well just move in at this point. So, anyways, I'm so surprised at how many people actually like this fic! Thanks to all you followers and favourite-ers. Let's see how Bella and the gang are getting on...**

Half an hour later, I'm sitting in Dumbledore's office with Rabastan, Rita, the lisping girl, and the three Gryffindors.

They found the seven of us at the forests edge; Rita wobbling like a fool, a fountain of red spurting messily from her nose; Patil bald and retching slugs; Rabastan mute and staggering; the Gryffindor whose name I'm unsure of unable to stop talking, and a face full of boils, and Jason Thomas with a rapidly growing tongue. I myself muted.

All of us were immediately ran to the hospital wing, our various childish ailments cured easily. We've been brought in to the headmaster, and the heads of the three involved houses. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor, is pacing and ranting at us, and at Slughorn and Faunch, the heads of Slytherin and Ravenclaw, as they, along with Dumbledore, sit back, looking on quietly.

"The dishonour you have brought to your school, your houses, yourselves! And first years? I expect this from the elders but _first years_? Cursing each other? You could've caused permanent damage! And at the forbidden forest of all places! I should expel the lot of you right this instant –"

"Minerva." Dumbledore raises a hand and McGonagall sits back, flushed and quiet. "I expect each child has their story. It is up to their heads of house to dictate their punishment, as so fits, but as headmaster, I am obliged to take fifty points from each involved house. Now. Horace, Minerva, Fion, do what you will, but first, I would hear each child's tale. Rita, if you would."

_Oh god. _Start with the babbling, blonde, brainless Ravenclaw. That's a good move. Still, I can't _wait_ to hear what she's going to say... Rita begins a high-pitched stream of rushing nonsense, all in one breath.

"It was all the Slytherins, that Black girl, she hates me for no reason at all and she's always been out to get me from the beginning, she started it, she just dragged me out of the feast and started firing curses at me and I don't know why, she just –"

"Rita. Slowly, child. Calm yourself." Dumbledore says gently.

Skeeter starts gushing again, her pauseless torrent of shrill and absurd accusations. I laugh and McGonagall's stern look glares coldly at me.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, girl?" McGonagall fires at me. "Do you deny these accusations?"

"Let Bellatrix tell her side, Minerva." Dumbledore nods curtly at me. "Miss Black?"

"Well, what Rita Skeeter so admiringly has done, is taken a bare fact and exaggerated it to the point of stupidity. We can't stand each other – obvious – so we decided to settle things in a civil wizards duel. And in fact, everything was going perfectly until the _Gryffindors_ decided to turn up." I make the word Gryffindor an insult.

"Firing curses at one another does not constitute a duel!" McGonagall shrieks.

I glare at her. "Oh. Really? Well you actually taught me something for once." I figure that I'm already in the biggest trouble I can be in, so a few poisoned words will hardly make a difference. McGonagall stands, furious.

"Miss Black, you have been quite the most disrespectful louse of a student I have _ever_ had the displeasure to teach and in all my years, never have I so unfortunately stumbled across a student so intent on –"

"Minerva." Dumbledore looks right at me. "The girl is Horace's student. He chooses the form of her punishment, like it or not. We still have not heard from Gryffindor House. Jason? Rajesh? Where do you come into this?"

"Well, we were minding our own business –" Jason Thomas drawls, before he is cut off by Slughorn.

"Out of the feast, near out of bounds, may I note."

Jason glares at him and continues. "When we saw this Ravenclaw girl being set upon by the Slytherin, with that older boy laughing. We simply had to help."

McGonagall frowns at her student. "Helping is getting a professor, not jumping in to fire curses yourselves!"

Dumbledore nods. "Minerva, Fion, Horace, if you would."

Slughorn leads Rabastan and I out, into his own office.

"Students. You have brought disgrace to your house. I hope you're mighty pleased with yourselves. Were it up to me, I'd have you both expelled at once, regardless of your house! But, I know Professors Faunch and McGonagall to be merciful to their own, and Dumbledore to all. So, from what I can gather from your very different stories, Bellatrix, you were the cause of this little incident, and I show great mercy and generosity in rewarding you with a three week suspension. Lestrange, you have detention with me every day for as long as I see fitting. Miss Black, you may leave your things at Hogwarts, to await your return."

..._What?_

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Eight**

**Home Sweet Home**

**A/N ~ This is a bit of a non-chapter. A filler. A short, mini-filler. Just something that I wanted to post because I'm at the library and this is all I have typed up to, and I wanted to make the most of the Wi-Fi. I apologise. I will update soon.**

**(Also, Hogwarts probably don't even do suspensions, I know that, but Rabastan is supposed to be the younger brother, so there's just a few teeny-weeny AU details. Plus I wanted to see more of Cissy and Dromeda.)**

I glare in stony anger at nothingness the whole journey back to Kings Cross.

How could he? How could he do this to me? I'm in his own house! Even McGonagall has more pride than that! I hate him. As much as I hate McGonagall. More. And I hate Rabastan Lestrange for not sticking up for me. I hate him for getting off with detentions while I'm missing weeks of Hogwarts fun and knowledge. I hate the train driver. I hate Dumbledore. I hate Jason Thomas and the Gryffindor whose name I don't know, and Rajesh Patil. I hate the girl with the lisp. And most of all, I hate hate _hate_ Rita Skeeter.

I'm bristling in fury when I storm off the train.

My parents are waiting for me, and greet me with silence the whole way back to our manor. Until we're inside. Then, they explode

I glare past them and tune out of their endless rant about family honour. It's all so unfair. This is Rita Skeeter's fault. When my mother is finished, she flushes bright pink and orders me straight to my room, to remain there, but Father catches my arm as I turn to leave. I shake him off brutally. I hate them too.

"Bella." He smiles thinly at me.

"What?" I snarl.

"I'm proud of you."

"What?" What does he mean? I'm trying not to let my confusion show too much. If I do, he's won. And I cannot let him win.

"Your first duel, Bellatrix!" He says "I had many at your age, well, maybe a little older. But anyway, it seems you held your own well. You were hit by just the one curse, and hit many, I am told. It was wrong of you, but well done. I'm glad of it. I worry about your sisters, Bella. I don't believe they could've handled that at all, not even half so well as you did. Now, you heard your mother. Your bedroom, Bella. Now."

Dazed, I find my way upstairs and into my room. Still, I'm not thankful because he's proud of me. He _should_ be proud of me. It's right. Feeling considerably smugger, I can hear whispering and giggling and when I throw open my door, Andromeda and Narcissa jump back, dropping the broomstick to the floor with a clatter. _My broomstick_. I glare at them and find my wand in my pocket.

"_Get out of my room_!"

This is going to be three long weeks.


	8. Home Sweet Home

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Eight**

**Home Sweet Home**

**A/N ~ This is a bit of a non-chapter. A filler. I will update soon. Also, Hogwarts probably don't even do suspensions, I know that, but Rabastan is supposed to be the younger brother, so there's just a few teeny-weeny AU details. Plus I wanted to see more of Cissy and Dromeda. That's the real reason why I wrote this chapter. Since nothing much happens in it, this is just so ya'll can see more of little!Narcissa and little!Andromeda.**

I glare in stony anger at nothingness the whole journey back to Kings Cross.

How could he? How could he do this to me? I'm in his own house! Even McGonagall has more pride than that! I hate him. As much as I hate McGonagall. More. And I hate Rabastan Lestrange for not sticking up for me. I hate him for getting off with detentions while I'm missing weeks of Hogwarts fun and knowledge. I hate the train driver. I hate Dumbledore. I hate Jason Thomas and the Gryffindor whose name I don't know, and Rajesh Patil. I hate the girl with the lisp. And most of all, I hate hate _hate_ Rita Skeeter.

I'm bristling in fury when I storm off the train.

My parents are waiting for me, and greet me with silence the whole way back to our manor. Until we're inside. Then, they explode

I glare past them and tune out of their endless rant about family honour. It's all so unfair. This is Rita Skeeter's fault. When my mother is finished, she flushes bright pink and orders me straight to my room, to remain there, but Father catches my arm as I turn to leave. I shake him off brutally. I hate them too.

"Bella." He smiles thinly at me.

"What?" I snarl.

"I'm proud of you."

"What?" What does he mean? I'm trying not to let my confusion show too much. If I do, he's won. And I cannot let him win.

"Your first duel, Bellatrix!" He says "I had many at your age, well, maybe a little older. But anyway, it seems you held your own well. You were hit by just the one curse, and hit many, I am told. It was wrong of you, but well done. I'm glad of it. I worry about your sisters, Bella. I don't believe they could've handled that at all, not even half so well as you did. Now, you heard your mother. Your bedroom, Bella. Now."

Dazed, I find my way upstairs and into my room. Still, I'm not thankful because he's proud of me. He _should_ be proud of me. It's right. Feeling considerably smugger, I can hear whispering and giggling and when I throw open my door, Andromeda and Narcissa jump back, dropping the broomstick to the floor with a clatter. _My broomstick_. I glare at them and find my wand in my pocket.

"_Get out of my room_!"

This is going to be three long weeks.

The rain is as relentless as it was on the boats to Hogwarts, glistening fat drops beating hard at the glass and sill of my bedroom window. We can hear the song of the rain as Narcissa, Andromeda and I sit cross-legged in a circle on my bed, curtains drawn back from my four-poster bed so we can see the rain splattering the window, playing Exploding Snap with a family pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans ripped open between us.

"Bella," Narcissa says, laying down a card, "If the Slytherin common room's under the lake, like you said, doesn't it ever flood?" She nibbles the edge of a lumpy brown-ish bean and passes it to Andromeda. "What flavour's that? I can't work it out."

"Ew." I grimace. "Don't eat that, that's disgusting, it's got Cissy-spit all over it." To my relief, Dromeda flicks it away. Not that I care. I don't think I'd care if they both choked to death on the stupid beans.

Three weeks stuck with them is enough to drive anyone mad. Andromeda lays down a card and winces, but the pile doesn't explode. She tosses me a dark red bean.

"Bella, try that one."

Ugh. They're both complete nuisances. Cissy won't be in Hogwarts for years and she's worrying about stupid, muggle-class problems; and Andromeda's scared to eat a bean that's probably raspberry. Rabastan is pretty cool, and Alecto's little brother sounds ok, so why is it I got stuck with the dud sisters? It's not fair. It's not fair that I'm here, now, anyway. Rita could have turned down the fight, she could've turned it down, and she didn't. I hate her.

"Tomato ketchup." I confirm, tossing the bean into my mouth, laying down my card. The pack explodes then. Good. They can get out of my room now.

"You didn't answer me!" Narcissa whines.

"Oh, didn't I? You're completely right, it leaks all the time, you'll probably drown doing homework one night and nobody's ever thought to use magic to stop it, because it's not like it's a school of magic or anything. Now get out of my room, and leave me alone. Don't you two have anything better to do than bother me all day? Like you'll get into Slytherin anyway." I snap. Cissy shoots me a miserable, tearful look.

"Yes I will!" she insists, sniffling.

I smirk. I see an opportunity to amuse myself and by all means am going to take it. I need all the amusement I can get these weeks.

"Slytherin, Slytherin, they'll never let Narcissa in!" I sing. "Gryffindor, Gryffindor, they've never had a Black before!"

"Shut up, Bella!" Cissy rubs a tear away angrily before it falls.

"Bella, why do you have to be so mean all the time?" Andromeda moans.

"Shut up, Dromeda. And don't worry, Cissy, no doubt you'll be in Slytherin. I'd kill them all for showing our family up if they put you anywhere else. The Crucio Girl, they call me now."

"You didn't write." Andromeda says stoutly.

"Neither did you." I mutter, through a handful of beans.

_And, Merlin, am I glad of it._


	9. House Elf Escapades

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Nine**

**House Elf Escapades**

**A/N ~ Weird chapter title, I know, but it shall explain itself... I kind of skipped the rest of Bellatrix's suspension. Yay for skips! That sounded odd. I just walked my friend and her four year old sister home, and the sister was dressed as Alice in Wonderland and kept demanding flowers. Don't ask why I felt a need to share that.**

I'm back.

Little had changed in my absence, but for an increase in homework, and an increase in friction between Rita Skeeter and I, and Gryffindor house and I. Not to mention my new-found hatred for Professor Slughorn, and my stronger anything-but-new hatred for Professor McGonagall.

Were it taught by anybody else, I'm sure I'd like Transfiguration. But, unfortunately, it's not, so Transfiguration is hell. The Scottish witch has me answering all her questions, takes points for no good reason, moves me away from my friends, sets me more detentions than ever. I'd write home and complain, but I really can't be bothered.

In the common room, Rodolphus, Alecto and I are copying as best we can from Astor's History of Magic homework (foot long essay on the origins of the first Giant War – _why_?), without it looking copied or sounding all the same. Astor copied it from his twenty-year-old sister's time at Hogwarts.

"What does that bit mean?" Rodolphus asks, chewing the end of his quill in the green glow of the Slytherin dungeons.

"No idea. So Binns'll love it." Astor replied with a wry grin.

Rabastan and Varys arrive so suddenly, crashing through the doors grinning huge grins, faces flushed bright pink, that we all do a double take. Their grins are the widest I've ever seen, they're red-faced, panting as they collapse into the chairs around us, spluttering and gasping. They wordlessly dump a pile of something onto the table in front of us.

"What the...?" Astor starts

"How did you...?" Alecto gapes incredulously. Rodolphus says nothing but his eyes grow wide. I close my mouth, realising with a start it had been hanging open. "Where did you get all this?" I demand.

In front of us lies a rather large pile of cakes and chocolates.

Apple pies, éclairs, doughnuts, strawberry and raspberry and blackberry and pineapple tarts, mince pies, honey bread, chocolate, liquorice wands, and so much more. They're still struggling to regain breath, and it's Varys that manages first.

"The... Kitchens - No... Professors - House elves... hundreds - of –" he wheezes. I exchange a look with Astor. Rodolphus has delved in and is chewing a mince pie like a pig, whilst Alecto suspiciously inspects an éclair.

"You... tickle – the – pear! It... lets you... lets you – in! House elves... give you everything... we –" Rabastan gasps. I think, unlike my friends, I have caught the gist. They're saying the kitchens are manned by house elves. That you tickle a pear to get in and they give you everything. I am assuming they took as much as they could, running back here before any prefects or professors or ghosts saw. I break into an incredulous grin. Now _that_ could come in useful. Varys seems to have regained breath, and tells us everything.

"See... Rab, Rab and I, we were just hanging about, and my hair was kind of rubbing against the fruit picture, and the pear started laughing, so we tickled it, properly, out of curiosity, and, well, the whole thing swung foreward and let us in. Turns out, it was the kitchens, and there's all this house elf scum, and they come right up to you and ask what they can get you, anything you want, they'll just give it all to you, they're desperate to help and feed you. So we grabbed all we were given and legged it. Thought you lot might be interested."

I am. _Very interested..._

Now this could be good. Oh yes, I can see all the possibilities now; escaping feasts to have our own private, all pureblood feasts... our own dormitory supplies... planting some on Skeeter and her cronies... Oh yes. The opportunities are endless.

"So, yeah," Rabastan says. "Help yourself. The rest we'll take back to the boys dorms."

"That's not fair!" Alecto whines "Me and Bella – "

I cut her off. The plan is already forming in my head. "Will get even more." I smirk. "Tonight. Lights out. House elves work well into the night."

My friends glance around nervously at each other, trying to make sense of what plan I am implying. I reach smugly for an apple pie, leaning back and taking a bite as they realise what I've said.

"Unless, of course, you're too scared...?" I smirk.

This is happening.


	10. Cakes, Capture and Tom Riddle

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Ten**

**Cakes, Capture and Tom Riddle**

**A/N ~ Oh my god. Chapter TEN already? How did that happen? When did we get here?! So I KNOW I said they'd be no more mentions of Voldy before she leaves school and becomes a Death Eater, but I couldn't resist. I SWEAR it has nothing to do with the story up till then. Also, IMPORTANT INFORMATION COMING UP: **

**I've had quite a lot of PMs asking how this is going to run time-wise. What I'm going to do is go through some years in detail, some days in detail, skim over other days, weeks, months, do main events in detail (certain days will have multiple chapters) and – Oh, just go with it, will you?**

Lights went out well over an hour ago. Alecto and I are wide awake, shoes on under our pyjamas, carefully counting the snores of the other Slytherins in our dorm, making sure they're all asleep. They are. Rodolphus Lestrange and Astor are meeting us in the common room; Varys and Rabastan got enough this afternoon. Either that or they're too cowardly to be illegally out after hours. Either way, I don't care.

I clutch my wand tightly as I ease back the covers and sit up, holding my breath as I gently, carefully push myself off the bed into the pitch black, sliding through the curtains and praying my bed won't creak. Alecto seems to be moving too, in the next bed. We creep across the room, wincing every time the floorboard complains, but when we're out, charged with the excited electricity of rule-breaking, we race down the stairs, trying not to laugh or trip over each other, into the green flickers of the common room.

Astor and Rod are at our side but moments later.

Without so much as a word to accompany the excited, nervous looks we exchange, we come to a silent agreement. I'm the one who braves _Lumos._ And so we begin our descent. The paintings – thank god – are all sleeping, snoring softly. The staircases are not so energetic this time of night, and we inch by inch tiptoe to the said painting. I'm not scared, of course. How pathetic that would be. I'm not nervous, even a little bit. The only sound is our heavy breathing.

"Tickle it, then!" Rodolphus whispers urgently, eyes wide, desperate, afraid. What is he, Narcissa's age? Honestly.

"Wimp." I hiss back, and with a flicker of my hand to either side, I push my hair back out of my eyes and cautiously stretch my fingers to the pear, and begin to tickle. When it laughs, the four of us jump violently and whip our eyes around, but if anyone's stirred, they don't show it. The pear squirms and laughs, setting us all on edge, but finally swings open and we all squeeze and clamour and push through, dropping to the floor, squinting in the sudden, blinding bright light.

The elves come running then, desperate to cater for four bedraggled eleven-year-olds.

And suddenly it's all worth it. I can't stop grinning. I'm beginning to understand Varys and Rab a little more. One rushes up to me.

"What can we get you, young mistress? Anything, anything at all!"It squeaks, ecstatic to serve. We end up feasting for a good while before filling our arms with all we can carry.

We're on such an adrenaline high when we blunder off the staircase and down the corridor that we don't notice the stairs had changed, and we're in entirely the wrong part of the castle. Rodolphus reaches for the door handle, but all at once I realise where we are, and what's going on, and frantically slap his hand away.

"Shut up." I whisper sharply to him just as he opens his mouth. I widen my eyes and look around, indicating to them. They don't seem to fully grasp it. We're right outside Professor Slughorn's office. And he's not asleep. It has to be two or three in the morning by now, but someone's in there with him, and they're talking.

I lean against the door, putting up a hand to stop my confused friends from bundling around me. I want to hear what's going on. I frown, trying to focus on the voices. I realise with a start that one's Dumbledore.

"Horace, I need to know. Understand that. The boy was not all he seemed to be. I've been looking into Hepzibah Smith's death, and there are some who believe it unnatural."

I feel my eyebrows and mouth inadvertently curdle into a frown. Inside I'm gaping. That name again. Hepzibah Smith. Who was she?

"You have no right, Albus! None, not in this! Please – "

When he cuts him off, Professor Albus Dumbledore's voice is grave. "What did Tom Riddle ask of you, Horace?"

I swallow. _That name_. I've completely forgotten where I am, that my friends are there. I'm lost in the confusion, the curiosity. I'd all but forgotten that name. There's something strange, dark, twisted, around the energy of the name, and the way Dumbledore speaks it. Tom Riddle.

I shift, pressing closer against the door, dropping the food in my arms on the ground, leaving only that in my pockets. Silence.

I slam my hand against the wall in frustration. _I NEED to know!_ I have to find out. Who is Tom Riddle?

Then the door's opening in my face, which had unrequitedly harboured the rabbit caught in headlights expression. My heart stops. I freeze. There's nothing I can do now. Professor Dumbledore's strangely blue eyes are cold, angry, shocked, even, as they meet mine.

We're all frozen in silence. Dumbledore notices the others with a brief glance, as if taking in who they are, but his eyes study me for what seems like hours before he speaks.

"Horace, these are all of your house, I believe. Deal with them accordingly. I wish to speak with Miss Black alone."


	11. Deals With The Devil

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Deals With The Devil**

**A/N ~ This is a miniature chapter. Mini but AWESOME I hope. Bella's in trouble... Also, **_**I Ddreamed a dream in time gone byyyyyyyyy...When hope was HIGH and life worth liviiiiiiiiiing...**_**I'll stop that now.**

And so I find myself marched to Dumbledore's office at three in the morning, in my too-big black pyjamas with my pockets full of cakes. He sits me down across from him, knits his fingers together and just studies me for a long while.

"Bellatrix Black," he says after a while, in a voice strangely calm; slow and flat and cool. "Never, in all my years of teaching, have I stumbled across a pupil so intent on rule-breaking and causing troubles. No doubt, I've come across a few in my time... Miss Black, I should expel you this instant, be done with it, but, alas, I fear that would not do." Dumbledore sighs and removes his glasses, setting them down slowly on his desk. He strokes his short, grey-threaded dark beard slowly. "In the last few months alone, you have threatened a fellow student with an Unforgivable Curse, attended the most detentions I have ever witnessed in all my days teaching, started a duel that left two students unable to leave the hospital wing for a fortnight, fulfilled a three week suspension and now what?"

He peers at me and I glare back in defiance. He flicks his wand and the cakes soar from my pyjama pockets and onto his desk in a heap. He sighs, though he plucks himself a piece of pie.

"Crept out at a strictly forbidden time of night, entered an out of bounds area, eavesdropped on myself and Professor Slughorn, your own head of house, and no doubt meant to hide this food in your dormitory. Alas, at Hogwarts you shall remain."

I don't ask why. It'd only change his mind.

"Bellatrix, I need to talk to you about what you heard outside of Slughorn's office. You will not speak of the names Tom Riddle and Hepzibah Smith. Ever. Or you shall be expelled without a second glance. Understand this now, Bellatrix, because this is very important. You tell anyone what you heard tonight, no matter how much of it you understood, you speak, you write, you even _think_ the name Tom Riddle under this roof, and you will be gone.

"You're deep in something you don't understand, Bellatrix. And I assure you, you should never have heard what I said to Horace Slughorn tonight, or he to I. You will never mention it again. Understand that, Miss Black, or the consequences cannot be questioned. You may leave now, Bellatrix. Go to bed. You have heard nothing this night."

And I haven't. Who's Tom Riddle? Who was Hepzibah Smith? Why did she die? And what did Dumbledore want of Slughorn?

There's no doubt, Dumbledore thinks I was outside that door much, much, longer than I actually was. He thinks I heard much more, much worse things. He thinks I know much more. I wish I did. One day, I pledge to myself, I will.


	12. You Again

**Bellatrix; The Last and The Best**

**Chapter Twelve**

**You Again**

**A/N ~ I'm back! Sorry I'm being such a death eater about updating! Really, sorry! I've just been busy. I've **_**far**_** from lost intrest in this fic. I have a lot of chapters written up on my laptop, it's just finding the time to get to the library (Yes, our wifi has STILL not been sorted out) and update. Also, inspired by the amazing AzureOtter (all Mizzies should go read her stories) I've written a Merlin script parody if anyone wants to check that out... :3 Anyways. I'll hand over to Bellatrix.**

It's snowing lightly as we board the Hogwarts Express once more; a fine, light snow that dusts everything in a light powder and sticks to my hair and the beanie hat Rod gave me. Usually, I'd be thrilled – making snowballs and trying to enchant them to hit Hufflepuffs and Rita Skeeter repeatedly – but I'm in too bad a mood to even try.

I don't _want_ to go home. I've barely got _back_ from home, with the suspension and all, and quite frankly I think I've taken enough of Cissy and Dromeda than is healthy for anyone. Yes, there's the presents, and the food, but I also have to see all my family. And I don't want to leave Hogwarts.

I don't like Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or, well, most students to be honest, but I _love_ Hogwarts. I want to keep learning spells! It's not fair. It's not as if I'd be allowed to stay home for the holidays. Not that I'd want to. Of course not.

I crowd into a steamed-up compartment with Astor, Alecto, Rod, Rab and Varys, and we all buy mince pies from the trolley, whilst they babbly excitedly about seeing their families, and what they want for Christmas, and what they're going to get other people. What utter idiots I associate myself with.

"Well, I'm get some stuff for my broom, I think. And I haven't got anyone anything yet." I say sourly, crumpling up my mince pie packet in my hand. They all stare at me, realizing I haven't spoken up since we boarded.

"Can you write down your address for me again? I think I lost it." Alecto says, chewing her lip. _Idiot_. "I need it to send you your present."

"Fine. Whatever." I scrawl it down on a spare scrap of parchment and throw it at her.

"Your hair looks really nice today, Bellatrix." Rodolphus says hopefully. "Do you want my mince pie?"

I frown at him. He's the biggest idiot of the lot. Still. I'd rather hang around with them than anyone else. They're ok. What is he talking about? Since when does he care about my hair? Since when do _I_ care about my hair? I snatch his mince pie.

"Are you ok, Bella?" Astor asks.

"Brilliant."

Then, just what I needed, Rita Skeeter of all people pokes her stupid blonde head into our compartment, giggling.

"What do _you_ want?" I glare pointedly at her. She pulls a tight smile.

"Prefects said you should keep it down in there." She says smugly.

"No they didn't. I don't _care_ what imaginary prefects said to you. Now will you please cease infecting our compartment with your laughably pathetic person, before I remind you of how badly I defeated you on Halloween."

She looks shocked. Astor laughs feebly. I finger my wand, just to prove my point. A part of me hopes she doesn't leave, so I can curse her again. But she does. Scaredy cat.

"Are you sure you're – "

"I'm _fine._"

When I get off at Kings Cross, I slam my trunk into our house-elf and ignore the brainless babble of my little sisters, trying to think of presents and my broom. _You again_.

**A/N ~ Just a filler but still... I will update ASAP, I have not lost faith.**


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